Lavender; "a striking instance of
hereditary instinct."
Blink, unable to persuade the hat, mounted it with her fore-paws and
trod it under.
"Ooray!" shouted the crowd.
"Give us a shilling, guv'nor, an' I'll get it for yer?"
"Thank you, my boy," said Mr. Lavender, producing a shilling.
The boy--the same boy who had thrown it in--stepped into the water and
waded towards the hat. But as he approached, Blink interposed between
him and the hat, growling and showing her teeth.
"Does she bite?" yelled the boy.
"Only strangers," cried Mr. Lavender.
Excited by her master's appeal, Blink seized the jacket of the boy, who
made for the shore, while the hat rested in the centre of the pond,
the cynosure of the stones with which the soldiers were endeavouring to
drive it towards the bank. By this, time the old lady had rejoined Mr.
Lavender.
"Your nice hat she murmured.
"I thank you for your sympathy, madam," Lavender, running his hand
through his hair; "in moments like these one realizes the deep humanity
of the British people. I really believe that in no other race could you
find such universal interest and anxiety to recover a hat. Say what you
will, we are a great nation, who only, need rousing to show our best
qualities.
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